Thursday, November 26, 2015

It has been some
months since Panjim was converted into a city of one-way streets. In other
parts of the world such changes to street flow are accompanied by a change in
urban design. In Panjim, however, the traffic police saw it fit to place ugly
barricades as a way to tutor the populace as to which part of the streets were
now off-limits.

For a while
these barricades were manned by police. However, it has been a while since
these new one-ways have seen police presence. As a result, the one-way system
is often disrespected with impunity. At night this violation assumes scary
dimensions, as people infringe the one-way rule at dizzying speeds.

This nocturnal
overturning of the order only gets worse along the riverside streets. Here,
tourists who have come to visit the casinos, drive through the wrong side of
the streets causing grave threats to life and limb. They may be doing so
because they are clueless and the city fathers have not seen it fit to place sufficient
signage. In addition, the police are marked by their absence. Effective
policing would have ensured that whether at night or day time, offenders are
politely, but firmly, corrected and set on their track. Where the drivers are
repeat offenders, a uniformly enforced system of fines would do much to ensure
that traffic in the city is disciplined and not marked by the free for all that
defines traffic in our state.

All in all, the
police are markedly absent when it comes to enforcing a discipline that would
benefit us all and make daily living easier and simpler.

On the flip
side, the police were very much present when it came to enforcing a sham state
of order over the initial days of the IFFI. The police went out of their way to
arrest those protesting the arbitrary functioning of the Central Government. A
few days ago the state administration was at pains to harass the Council for Social Justice and Peace which was co-hosting the alternate film festival
organised by the students of the FTII. At the local level, operating under the
cover of a selectively applied Sec. 144, the state administration disrupted the
protest against the lackadaisical attitude towards the mysterious death of Fr.
Bismarque Dias. Persons who gathered on 21 November to demand justice for Fr.
Bismarque were unceremoniously placed under arrest and dragged away to various
police stations.

Citizens who
were wearing black and white, colours suggested for the protest, were
selectively plucked out from crowds of people. These other people were allowed
to violate the imposition of Sec. 144. Scarier still, one man was dragged
off from the ferry boat. This action is scary because it demonstrates the
state administration’s cavalier violation of basic principles of law and order
maintenance; one does not arrest someone unless they are proving to be a threat
or public nuisance. Worse still were the words of the Inspector who dragged
this man off to jail; “Justice dita tuka
f**ya” (I’ll give you justice, you f***er). Never mind the crude language
that a state functionary has used against a citizen. What is shocking is the
disregard for justice, and processes of justice displayed by that police functionary.
While the case of Cipriano
Fernandes who died while in police custody is still fresh in mind, it
should be pointed out that the assault of detainees or those arrested by the
Goa police is not an uncommon occurrence.

Juxtaposing the
scenario of a lack of daily policing with that of extraordinary measures taken
when the image-obsessed Government is hosting an international event should
demonstrate just how misplaced their priorities are. This argument is not about
policing priorities alone. Rather, it questions whether we know what the role
of the State is in the first place.

Judging by the
lack of policing or any form of rigourous attention to the kind of pressures
that the casinos are placing on the urban infrastructure of Panjim and the
safety of the people within, one can safely assume that the administration sees
public resources and infrastructure as a milch cow to be exploited as long as
it is giving. The state presides over the private loot of public resources and
the police forces are on hand to terrorize the population; especially when they
protest at the violation of the responsibilities that flow from the contractual
relationship between citizens and state.

We, in India,
live in a time where the State presumes that it exists for its own sake. The
State demands our allegiance even as it systematically dismantles the rule of
law and complicates the ability to lead an uncomplicated life. State organs are
pressed to the service of its favoured elites, to support the populist circus
that the regime understands to be good governance, and to smash the principled
opposition to this perversion. But the citizens' relationship with the State is not a one-way street. The State is the result of a contract among
citizens to ensure that life can be pleasant and fulfilling for all. The police
should necessarily be facilitators of daily life. The police forces, like organs
of the state exist merely to achieve that end. When these ends are not met, and
the sole function of the police is to operate as the strong arm of a brute State then the State loses legitimate reason for existence.

Thursday, November 12, 2015

Given the contentious
nature of the issues Fr. Bismarqe Dias was fighting for it is no surprise that
malicious rumours are being spread about him, that the cause of his death dismissed
as accidental, and worse even born of his own negligence. One has to merely
look at the backgrounds of the persons spreading these rumours to know that the
inspiration lies either in the Hindutva groups, or those who seek more
’development’ in Goa.That these rumours
emerge from these two camps is, once again, no surprise. Ever since Modi has
seized the reins of power it is increasingly evident that Hindutva mobilizes
all manner of people to push an agenda that will disempower the very people who
form the rank and file of the Hindu nationalist movement. Hindutva under Modi
is geared solely to the benefit of the corporate princes who have bankrolled
Modi’s rise to power.

But we would be
no better than the rumour mongers if we only flung muck, albeit well-deserved,
at these persons. Rather, we need to address the crux of the issue, rather than
engage in non-issues. The issue therefore is: does it matter if Fr. Bismarque
was killed or died accidentally? I would argue that it does not. The manner of
his death itself makes no difference to the fact that Fr. Bismarque is now a
martyr and a symbol for right-thinking Goans everywhere.

What makes Fr.
Bismarque a martyr is not the fact that he may have been killed, but the fact
that he died in the field, with his boots on. His death has left us with the
sense that his was a life snuffed out, whether accidentally or by design, well
before his time had come; that he left us when his promise was as yet
unfulfilled.

Fr. Bismarque is
a martyr because his departure has animated us even further. His death may have
deprived us of a charismatic leader, but in the upheaval that has followed his
passing has demonstrated that there are many who are willing to carry his
cross. This churning has also demonstrated that these followers are not
entirely lacking in the persons willing to lead them forward.

Indeed, like
many martyrs, Fr. Bismarque’s passing has made us aware of the larger problems
with the system that we need to fix if Goa,Bismarque’s beloved, is not completely laid to waste. Take, for example,
the facts shared by the leaders of the movement for justice for Fr. Bismarque.
A complete forensic evaluation cannot be completed in Goa because the state
does not have an equipped laboratory. In what must surely be a bad joke, the
state of Goa has an empty building with some amount of equipment recently
arrived. Nor has there been an appointment of skilled staff to effectively make
use of this equipment As Caroline Colaço, one of the lawyers following the case
lamented that a state ought to have had this infrastructure in place,
especially in the scenario where crime rates are increasing. To ensure that
these rates are kept down it is imperative that justice is quickly served.
Unfortunately, not only does policing seem to be lax in our state, but we lack
the essential systems necessary to maintain basic law and order.

The biblical
lesson that “the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak” highlights that the human
body is a poor vehicle for the spirit it bears. There is often much that we
would like to do, but are unable to undertake because of the limitations of our
physical frames. When trapped within his physical frame Fr. Bismarque was able
to undertake a variety of activism spread across the face of Goa. And yet, even
he would have acknowledged that his actions were not enough. Goa, which was
once a simpler place, is no longer innocent, and the forces that threaten us
are overwhelming.The fact that Fr.
Bismarque’s death is being used not only to address the issues that he
addressed in life, but to take on issues that he did not have the physical
capacity to do is testament to the power of his death. This is the mark of a
martyr, where death does not simply mean an end, but the seed for work in the
future.

There is another
manner in which Fr. Bismarque has achieved martyrdom. Before it was imbued with religious meaning,
the word martyr was used to identify one who has given witness. As we all know,
Fr. Bismarque’s relationship with the hierarchy of the Catholic Church in Goa
was somewhat troubled. Various restrictions were placed on him such that people
have often come to the belief that he was not a priest anymore.This is, however, not true. The teaching of
the Catholic Church, however, is that once consecrated, one is a priest for
life until actively laicised by papal decree. This was not the case with Fr.
Bismarque. On the contrary, through his daily actions, where he poured out his
time and energy for others, Fr. Bismarque gave witness to his faith, both as a
Christian and as a priest. In his dying while actively involved in what he
clearly saw as his mission, he has died a martyr. If his death is established
to have been caused by murder his passing will only bring us more grief, it will deepen our commitment to see justice done; it
will not, however, take away from the fact that he died a martyr.

Sometime in the
morning of 25 October, I received an SMS from a friend. The SMS contained the word
‘traitor’, followed by a link to an article in that day’s Times of India titled ‘Goan
with the wind’. The article, authored by Lisa Monteiro and Andrew Pereira, offered
figures and comments on the phenomenon of scores of persons from the former
Portuguese State in India (Goans, for the sake of brevity) ‘migrating’ after
claiming Portuguese passports. The article itself made no suggestion of
traitorous behaviour on the part of these persons, leading to the conclusion
that it was not the facts that were
problematic but their interpretation. Such an interpretation requires that we
supplement our analysis with additional information.

There is a
suggestion that the migration of Goans holding a Portuguese passport is a unidirectional
movement outside of Goa. This is not necessarily true. Goans have been
migrating for centuries, whether to East Africa, to other parts of Asia or,
more recently, to the Persian Gulf and Europe. Most of these migrations have
been marked by a return of these Goans’ earnings to erect the beautiful homes that
are today mistakenly marketed as ‘Portuguese’. This is to say that Goan
migrations have not traditionally been unidirectional. Rather, they have been marked
by a back and forth between the two territories. If contemporary migrations
with the Portuguese passport seem to have changed something—and, in fact, it is
still too early to judge whether this is the case—then, we need to inquire as
to the circumstances that might have led to this change.

What is often overlooked
is that the legal landscape that impinges on Goan migration has changed
substantially. Yes, Goans have awoken to the fact that they can obtain a
Portuguese passport and benefit from the status of the European Union, but the
other fact that is rarely commented on is that Indian law has deprived them of
their traditional rights. The rush to acquire a Portuguese passport may be a
new, decade old, phenomenon; however, at least since the first quarter of the
nineteenth century, all Goans
were formally recognised as Portuguese citizens. Predating this date, too,
varying sections of the Goan population were recognised as Portuguese citizens.
For example, from the mid-1800s, those paying property taxes were able to vote in
the elections to determine who would represent Goa in the Portuguese
Parliament. When the Indian army marched into Portuguese India in 1961, the
ability to assert this right was lost, and India unilaterally imposed not only its
own citizenship on these Portuguese citizens but also the restriction that they
could have only one nationality. This is an odd action for a state that claims
to be a liberator. Logically, a liberator only adds to existing rights; it does
not take them away.

Further, the Overseas
Citizen of India (OCI) regime is not really an option for persons who wish to
have a continuing relationship with their country. We are often misinformed
when told that the OCI card allows for ‘multiple entry, multipurpose life-long
visa to India, granting… exemption from reporting to the police for any length
of stay in India’, and that the only restrictions are voting in elections and
the purchase of agricultural land. Recent events have highlighted that this is,
in fact, not the case. Regardless of OCI status, persons engaged in research in
India need a research visa. Further, one needs a business visa to work in India
as an OCI. And finally, there is the social life of the law—the manner in which
rules are actually implemented. Take the
case of Christine Mehta, who, despite possessing a valid research visa, was
recently deported from the country, or the
case closer home of Saturnino Rodrigues, who in February 2014 claimed that
he was prevented by the state administration from carrying out mutation of a
property sold to him by an OCI.

Thus, if Goan
migration seems to be turning into a one-way exit, it is because of the
oppressive legal regime that the Indian state insists on. Goans are not
obtaining Portuguese passports; they are merely reclaiming the Portuguese citizenship that they have always
enjoyed. This is not a situation that most Indians would appreciate, because
the British Raj never allowed for natives to enjoy British citizenship. Natives
were always subjects, never citizens. A legal regime honest about history would
undoubtedly allow for a more dynamic movement of Goans between Goa and other
places. Indeed, the ongoing movement for Special Status for Goa should take
cognizance of this fact and demand dual citizenship for Goans as an integral
part of the Special Status demand.

Subsequent to
pointing to the way the legal landscape has changed and impacted Goan
migration, it is also necessary to point out the changed social landscape. The TOI
article suggested that Goan migration was pushed by ‘rising unemployment and an
uncertain economy’. This is only part of the equation. Left unsaid is the
increasing intolerance in the country, initiated well before the current rise
of the BJP, which has made Goans, and especially Catholics, scramble for
alternatives, where they will not be made to feel like minorities. Indeed, the
fact that the TOI article found it necessary to provide data regarding the
religious make-up of those reclaiming their Portuguese citizenship and forced
to give up their Indian citizenship speaks to the vitiated manner in which the
matter is being debated.

Nevertheless,
what most encounters with those migrating indicate is that the choice to
migrate with a Portuguese passport is, in fact, economic. The problem, however,
lies not in a lack of employment but in a lack of decent employment. The fact
is that in India, and this includes Goa, the salaries for blue collar jobs do
not allow for middle class lifestyles and options. While Goans migrating to
Europe may be forced to work in sweatshops and live in slums today, the existence
of a welfare state in the West, no matter how much under threat, will ensure
that their children will have options that they could never imagine in Goa and
India.

To conclude, the
Goan migration via a Portuguese passport should not be seen as evidence of a traitorous
relationship with India. On the contrary, Goans are merely asserting a
pre-existing birthright first obtained by their ancestors. Further, if Goans
are renouncing Indian citizenship, it is under the duress of the Indian state
that refuses to recognise Goa’s peculiar legal history. A number of South Asian
languages proscribe ‘going’—a word that indicates no return—preferring instead,
as in Konkani, yetam (coming). Given
a more accepting socio-legal regime, when migrating abroad Goans would very
well be saying ‘I’m coming [back]’, rather than ‘going’.

“Quem viu Goa,
excusa de ver Lisboa!”(Who has see Goa need not see Lisbon) goes a
saying that may have emerged and gained popularity in the late sixteenth
century Goa, when the island-city of Goa, what we today call Old Goa, was at
the height of its power. This must have been saying a lot, since at about the
same time Lisbon was a pretty impressive European city itself. The latter city
presided over a truly global trade thanks to the European discovery of America
and grew in size as well as impressive monuments.

Goa and Lisbon are
today denizens of two rather different worlds and one would think that the old
saying would not hold good. And indeed it doesn’t for I would argue that he who
has seen one or the other, must see
the other. As so many others before me have remarked, to arrive in either
Lisbon or in Goa from the other place is to embark on a journey of déjà vu, a sense
that one has been here before.

My first proper encounter with Lisbon was
when I entered the city

through the railway station of Santa Apolónia.
Enthusiastic that I should not miss a thing, and believing that walking is the
best way to see things, I decided to walk. Blessed decision, since it gave me
my first sense of this déjà vu.Perhaps a little more than a kilometre away
from the station I walked into an area called Campo das Cebolas (field of
onions). It must have been a field a long long time ago, since today there is
no space for any agricultural activity close to one of Lisbon’s many touristic
centres, the Praça do Comércio.

What struck me about the Campo was the fact
that behind the square that gave its name to the place was a huge governmental
building dressed in the yellow that we in Goa today associate with the Police
Headquarters and the Institute Menezes Braganza in Panjim. All at once, it was
like I had been transported from Lisbon back to Goa, standing in a place where
one could look at the Police Headquarters from across what is today called Azad
Maidan in front of it. Don’t get me wrong, it is not quite the same view, the
building and the square in Lisbon are on a much grander scale, but there is no
doubt that both spaces speak a similar language.

Over time that initial sensation has kept
repeating itself. This sensation is perhaps never as strong when I view the
south bank of the river Tagus from a location in Lisbon. The view on the other
side is of various Goan scenario’s stitched together; the view of Betim and
Reis Magos from Panjim, the view of Vasco from Dona Paula.

For a long time I thought that perhaps
these imaginations of seeing Goa through a Portuguese landscape was just the
product of some kind of (post?)colonial nostalgia. I was fortunately relieved
of this guilty sensation when traveling from Lisbon to Coimbra with another
Goan academic, who doesn’t really share many of my perspectives. Pulling out,
again from Santa Apolónia, she remarked with delight at the landscape she saw;
“But isn’t this exactly like in Goa?” I grinned at her in acknowledgement.
There were portions of the river bank with its vegetation, and the fields that
followed subsequently that did give one the feeling that one was in riverine
Goa, with its bandh, backwaters, and
paddy fields baking in the summer. One does get the feeling that perhaps a
person with an eye trained to recognise different kinds of vegetation will not
see quite the same vision that these two Goan academics did. But until the day
in which we develop these skills, one suspects we must continue to see visions
of the mother land when far away from home. This must not be a particularly bad
thing.

If there is one thing in which Goa (in this
case understood to be Panjim, the former Nova Goa) differs from Lisbon, then
perhaps it is the relation of the two sides of the river bank to each other. In
Lisbon, it is the north bank of the river Tagus that hosts the city; and the
south bank, today home to a variety of dormitory towns, tends to be disparaged
by Lisbon snobs. In Goa it seems it is the other way around.Panjim is located on the south bank, and even
though Ponjecars suffer from an incurable superciliousness, it is a fact that
beyond some amount of threatened urban architecture, Panjim has not much to
offer. Indeed, if denizens of the city want entertainment, they must perforce
travel to the northern bank of the river Mandovi.

Who has seen Goa, need
not see Lisbon went the old saying. However, with the passage of centuries, it
would perhaps be more appropriate for those in Goa to rephrase it: Who has seen
Goa, must indeed see Lisboa! One hopes that those in Lisbon will return the
honour.

(A version of this post was first published in The Goan on 25 Oct 2015)

About Me

Itinerant mendicant captures two aspects of my life perfectly. My educational formation has seen me traverse various terrains, geographical as well as academic. After a Bachelor's in law from the National Law School of India, I worked for a while in the environmental and developmental sector. After a Master's in the Sociology of Law, I obtained a Doctorate in Anthropology in Lisbon for my study of the citizenship experience of Goan Catholics. I am currently a post-doctoral researcher at the Centre for Research in Anthropology at the University Institute of Lisbon, but continue to shuttle between Lisbon and Goa.
I see myself as a mendicant not only because so many of my voyages have been funded by scholarships and grants but because I will accept almost any offer for sensorial and intellectual stimulation, and thank the donor for it.
This blog operates as an archive of my writings in the popular press.